


Oil and Water

by SunnyDonna



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, And Valentine's day is over..., It was supposed to be smuttier but it turned into world-building, M/M, ZoSan - Freeform, Zosan secret valentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyDonna/pseuds/SunnyDonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeff wants Sanji to get the best education in the state, and that means being packed off to the Grand Line Academy, which incidentally, is also a boarding school. Sanji only wants to stay at home at the Baratie. Arriving at the Grand Line Academy, Sanji can't get rid of this lingering feeling of homesickness as he maneuvers his way through the struggles of living with his new roommate, Zoro Roronoa, who Sanji gets along with about as much as oil and water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oil and Water

**Author's Note:**

> For shattterhearts on Tumblr, who requested Sanji angst, high-school AU, some fluff and smut for the Zosan Secret Valentine. This wasn't as smutty as it was intended to be, but it has angst and fluff. There was this whole fabulous metaphor with oil and water, but then it was 9000 words and I had to cut that bit out and stick to this. Also, this really turned into world-building, and now I have the urge to write a story in this world... 
> 
> Goddammit.

The problem was, when your old man got old, he began to lose all sense of reason. Sanji glared at Zeff and tried to fathom a proper response. There was nothing to really say. The filled out application, complete with a shitty forged signature of his (most likely by Carne) was sitting on the dining room table, all shiny and pretty with a blood-red ‘accepted’ stamped on top.

It was probably the blood of the victims of Grand Line Academy.

“I’m not going,” swore Sanji heavily, “You need me here! The last fucker you tried to hire nearly robbed you!”

“And I kicked his ass,” replied Zeff dismissively, hunkering towards the stove to start breakfast in bare-bones blue robe.

“The Baratie is barely taking off,” argued Sanji, “We can’t afford this shit old man!”

Zeff just grunted, completely ignoring Sanji as the oil from the bacon spit up on the pan and created a sizzling, greasy aroma in the kitchen. It was mouth-watering and flavorful and greasy and exactly the perfect thing for the perfect breakfast. Now if only the shitty old man hadn’t ruined the flavour of the bacon with this- this-

“You’re going,” said Zeff gruffly, “I went there too, eggplant. Best education in the state!”

“You dropped out!” yelled Sanji back, fuming at Zeff, arms crossed over his blue pyjamas patterned with rubber duckies. “And I’m going to dro-

Zeff slammed his peg leg into Sanji’s ribs. The blonde youth gasped in pain, his eyes watered as he bent over, certain that he was already bruised, probably straight down to the fucking bone. When he looked up from his prostrated position, he saw Zeff giving him the dirtiest and scariest glare that he saved for only the most annoying customers and idiot employees. He was also holding the giant fucking cleaver, the one with the wooden handle and large, squared blade that butchers used. Sanji gulped, and ignored the sudden twitch of his leg. He was not going to tremble in front of his old man!

“You’re going,” stated Zeff darkly, “And you’re going to enjoy yourself and get a fucking education and if you even think of dropping out, I’ll take the cleaver, and I’ll brunoise you and cook you with a fucking eggplant and feed you to Patty and he’ll never be wiser because you’ll be in fucking tiny little cubes. Now, shut up, sit down, and eat your fucking bacon.”

A plate of bacon was smashed down in front of Sanji, with red meat piled into a mountain, glistening with oil and fat that shone. Sanji slid into his seat, and let his fork dig into the pile, because, well, there was really nothing else to say to that, now was there?

* * *

 

Summer ended too quickly, and come September, Patty, Carne, Zeff and Sanji loaded up the Baratie van and drove the large, obnoxious catering van up to the Grand Line Academy. The group had dropped him off at the admin office, and Patty and Carne had blubbered like idiots while Zeff gave him a strong pat on the shoulder, looking so proud that Sanji hadn’t the heart to tell him to fuck off. But Sanji denied tearing up as the group rolled away in the van.

Now he was here at this school for weirdos.

The school had a reputation for turning out the world’s best and brightest, such as Senators Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru. Unfortunately, it also turned out the best and brightest criminals, including Gol. D. Roger, famed for having been an eccentric criminal and mafioso who was rumoured to even have stolen a one piece of the crown jewels. As a result, getting in was damn hard.

First of all, your grade point average had to be high enough to cross the ‘Red-Line’ to get in. Then came all the paperwork and signing up for classes. And finally, it was staying in that killed a person.

Sanji gawped at his course sheet as he headed to his dorm, large black suit-case rolling behind him. He ran a hand through his shaggy blond locks, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was expected to take nine courses over the year. Nine! His old high-school had been content with Sanji taking a minimum of five, which had been to Sanji’s advantage as it allowed him to help out in the kitchens at the Baratie-

Which he wasn’t doing anymore.

It was with that morose and irritating thought that Sanji entered his new dorm.

The room was a pleasant, small box with clean blue linens on the right-side bed, and yellow linens on the left. Two desks were pushed up to the walls at the end of each single bed, and the closets were beside the door. There was about an arm-length of space between the beds to walk around in.

Great.

To Sanji’s annoyance, his roommate was already here. The green-haired student was asleep on the blue bed. His stuff, which consisted of a backpack lay open at his feet. Three swords (real live swords) were already hanging from the walls, their holders nailed in so that the swords formed an ‘X’ with the third sword underlining it.

The swords were what caught Sanji’s eye. They were real live swords, with sharp blades and a beauty that he could almost taste in the air.

He left his trolley by his closet and turned to stare at them.

The one that was underlining the ‘X’ was a beautiful white blade, with a slight curve to it and a golden hilt patterned with black diamonds. The second sword, forming one part of the X had a black blade, with a white design made to look like teeth at the edge of the sword. It’s hilt was black, with a leathery looking grip and a dark, golden flower shape at connecting the blade to the hilt. The third sword was also a black blade, with a light grey edge patterned with blue waves. It was a tempered steel, looking fierce and cut-throat. The hilt matched that of the second, but it exuded more danger and expense. A blade that demanded a vicious owner.

Sanji yearned for kitchen knives of that make, of that expense.

But it was out of his league, for sure.

His eyes drifted to the owner, staring at the green-haired weirdo who carried around three swords and was Sanji’s dorm-mate for the next year. He had dark brown skin, vaguely like pie crust that had been baked a little too long. Sanji had once tried to tan himself that color. He’d gone to the beach with Zeff and slathered his preteen body in sun-tan oil, sat outside for a full day, and returned a reddish-purple colour. He’d earned the nickname, egg-plant, and learnt the hard way that he couldn’t tan.

Any jealousy about this guy’s ability to tan was washed about the his lurid green hair that resembled a head of lettuce, the darker kind that came in leafy sheets rather than the round iceberg lettuce. Cucumber and pie, what an awful combination, and yet, it sort of worked on this guy. He was muscular too, like Patty but with less hair and no gut and arms that even relaxed, had bulging muscle.

Sanji had a foreboding feeling about this.

* * *

 

The roommate, who Sanji later found out was called Zoro Roronoa, was as predicted, a freak. He slept throughout the entire first day, seemingly unbothered by Sanji unpacking his clothes and yelling at Zeff on his new Den-Den-Mushi cellphone. Sanji had almost considered calling the nurse to make sure he wasn’t dead.

Instead, he’d just gone to sleep. After all, he did have a long day tomorrow, what with classes beginning and all that. Just as he’d finally settled in to sleep, after wondering about the state of the Baratie, whether or not Patty was treating the ladies alright, if Carne remembered to cut the meat like meat, instead of using the cuts he used for fish, and whether or not Zeff remembered to place his peg-leg by his side-table instead of letting it roll under the bed because he always forgot the next morning that it was under the bed, it was suddenly morning.

To be precise, it was five in the fucking morning.

“Why the fuck are you- What- What the fuck are you doing?!” hollered Sanji, as he woke up to the freaky roommate lifting barbells, that had somehow made their way out of the backpack, while doing jumping jacks.

“Training,” grunted the freak, with a deep voice and a sideways glance at Sanji, before he jumped onto the ground, and started doing push-ups.

Sanji gaped.

The other fellow, Zoro, was sweating heavily as he worked out. His white shirt had been removed, though Sanji had a suspicion that the black trackpants he wore were what he’d slept in. The salty water slid down his chest, dripping down from his head and teasing the sides of his face and the square of his jaw. His abs were glistening gold in the dim light of dawn.

Dawn.

“Are you a fucking moron?! Get out!” cried Sanji, fuming. Who just started working out at five in the goddamn morning when someone was sleeping?

And that was the beginning of the long year ahead.

* * *

 

As time passed, Sanji grew to dislike Zoro intensely, and the feelings were mutual. Zoro had been quick to dismiss Sanji’s early routine of shower, shave and shine, which involved lathering his hair in the finest hair oils, and then styling it to go over his right eye. Additionally, Zoro had been quick to start calling Sanji ‘curly-brow’ and ‘dart-brow’ after seeing Sanji’s curly left eyebrow.

It wasn’t until his second month of geology that Sanji came up with an appropriate response.

Yes, that’s right, his school required that he take a science, and the easiest looking one had been geology. Who the hell cared about the study of rocks and plants? Even his teacher, Mr. Crocodile, didn’t care for those aspects. Instead, he waned on and on about only topic.

“Listen up brats! According to the board, I got to teach you some shit about plants. So pick a fucking plant from this list of endangered species and get going on an independent study unit! Miss All-Sunday’s handing the list out now. God this is such a waste of time. We should be learning some useful shit, like about sand signatures, but I have to teach you this pathetic crap.”

Sanji tuned out the rant about the miracles of sand as he smiled brilliantly and the most illustrious and wonderful Robin, who gave Sanji that strange, half-smile as she passed by. Robin was a vision of beauty and the only reason Sanji actually gave a fuck about geology. When she finally finished her student-teacher hours and became a history teacher, you know Sanji was dropping this class and taking that one. Just to watch her hips move like that. To watch her neck stretch.

And then she walked out of the room.

Sanji sighed and began to read over the sheet. All the plants were strange and weird, with pictures below. Some type of cactus was on there. Two or three trees. Sanji’s eyes scanned the list, reading off the uses of said plants. Sanji paused over the sandalwood trees. They produced an essential oil in arometherapy. He remembered that from when Zeff had tried it out to help him relax when the Baratie very nearly got into a lawsuit against that asshole developer Fullbody.

Sanji paused, wondering if Fullbody was still causing trouble for the Baratie. Whether Zeff was able to handle it when Fullbody’s goons came by and tried to stir up trouble.

Shaking the thought off, Sanji returned to the sheet. He couldn’t afford to think about the Baratie right now.

Sanji crossed off plants on the handout, flipping to the back to look at the other plants. His pen paused over a picture of these floating green balls, round and rough-looking, but a green- a really deep green that matched Zoro’s head. They were just floating in clear blue water, crisply bobbing along.

Marimo.

Oh he was so calling Zoro that the next time he got called ‘curly-brow’.

“What are you grinning about?” asked Nami, the other beauty and life-force of his heart.

She had turned around in her seat, flipping her orange bob as she moved and smiling with those beautiful, beautiful lips. Pink lips. Edible, rosy pink lips that Sanji could talk about for hours. Nami was the most beautiful girl in the world, and god Sanji wanted her.

“This,” he replied, instead of pushing out a confession of love.

He’d already tried that the first day he’d met Nami, and she’d giggled and never taken him seriously after that. But someday, she’d realize he was serious. That he thought the world of her beautiful orange hair and her soft looking cheeks and that he’d worship her like the goddess she was.

“What’s so funny about a plant?” asked Nami, staring at the green little balls.

“Don’t they look like Zoro’s head?” crowed Sanji, grinning maniacally, “Next time he makes fun of my eyebrows, I have the perfect response!”

Nami stared at him, her orange brow cocked above her gorgeous, large eyes with those dark lashes. Sanji swore he swooned a little.

“You two are so weird,” replied Nami with a shake of her head, “I’m glad Vivi and I don’t fight as much as you two.”

Vivi! Oh sweet, blue-haired Vivi, with big, dark eyes and a smile that could break hearts. Sanji wanted to run his hand through Vivi’s hair, to worship her with tenderness and all his heart and- it was moot. She had that awful, thuggish looking boyfriend Kohza and Sanji was a man of honour. He would not bother a lady that had wanted another man.

“That’s because you’re a beautiful and wonderful and kind lady,” emphasized Sanji, “And you and Vivi are so lovely that nobody in the world should disagree with you! Zoro’s uncouth, and lazy and he doesn’t pick up after himself and-

“He owes me a hundred beli,” replied Nami proudly, beaming at Sanji with a wide smile, “And with the interest, he’ll owe me a hundred and fifty beli by the end of the week!”

“You’re so smart Nami darling!” crowed Sanji, because she was. Who could do that sort of math in their head?

“You’ll make me something in your cooking class right? Something citrusy? I sort of miss home,” replied Nami, deflecting the comment entirely. It was a testament to her modesty that she didn’t take Sanji seriously.

“Anything for you,” replied Sanji earnestly.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until three days later that Sanji got to use his insult. Zoro was once again training. He only ever trained or slept. Sanji was busy studying for the culinary test on the principles of hospitality. Patty could really have used a few of these lessons.

“Toss me the water bottle curly,” asked Zoro, having finished his reps of push-ups with his knuckles or something weird like that.

Sanji absently tossed the bottle, still muttering the techniques to himself as he snarkily replied, “Shut up marimo. I’m studying.”

Zoro paused in taking a sip, and instead stared at Sanji. Sanji looked up from the sudden silence. That was new. Had he actually won? Was Zoro going to throw in a towel to their constant arguing?

“How’d you know what a marimo was?” asked Zoro, staring at Sanji like he’d grown a third head.

“Plant assignment in geology,” replied Sanji, furrowing his brow, “We got that a few days ago. Haven’t you guys started that yet?”

“The sports stream is a few days behind you guys,” replied Zoro, crashing onto his bed.

“So how’d you know what a marimo is?” asked Sanji, almost feeling a bit of shock that Zoro knew shit that Sanji hadn’t known.

“Japanese,” grunted Zoro.

Sanji paused, taking that in. This was the first real conversation he and Zoro had had about their lives before coming to the Grand Line Academy. All Sanji really knew about the guy was that he had a sister, Kuina, was a few years older and the hottest babe that Sanji had ever seen but also kind of scary as she moved faster than a whip when she had a blade in her hand, but that she’d switched from the sports stream into the medical stream after an unfortunate accident almost cost her her life.

“You’re Japanese? Was your mother a plant too?” asked Sanji, partially out of curiosity and partially because he and Zoro were talking normally and it was weird.

“Ass,” replied Zoro, glaring at Sanji as he pulled the pillow under his head.

“Bastard,” tossed Sanji, returning to perusing his notes with less interest. He had to make sure he got a higher mark than that shitty fucker Wanze who only fucking cooked ramen all the time.

“Shitty idiot who only thinks with his dick.”

“Coming from the guy who needs three swords to compensate, fucking marimo.”

“Mine’s twice the fucking size of your prissy little dick, dart-brow,” replied Zoro, yawning as he shut his eyes and within seconds he was snoring.

The next morning, he woke up to Sanji’s reply of, “At least I know how to use mine, mosshead.”

* * *

 

Time passed, and Zeff came down from the Baratie to visit Sanji on Family Day. As a part of the school tradition, Sanji had to show Zeff all the things he was learning. He’d gotten an eighty-eight on his geology project about the marimo, and Nami had gotten him a tiny marimo plant from unnamed sources that sat in Sanji’s room as a taunt for Zoro.

She was so resourceful!

Zeff admired the project, though later muttered that Crocodile was a moron and that in his day teachers weren’t so shady looking. Zeff praised Sanji’s score in math, and swore loudly when he realized Sanji was practically failing business studies because he spent too much time checking out Kalifa, the babe who sat in the fourth row and accused any guy who stared too long of being a pervert and of sexual harassment.

She was so assertive!

And unfortunately, so was Zeff. Sanji could still feel the bruise on his knee from where Zeff had knocked his leg after that distressing meeting with Professor Akainu, who glared and grunted and informed Zeff that Sanji seemed to lack any business sense when approached by a pretty woman.

Zeff seemed to find it distressingly accurate.

The meeting with Ivankov had gone better, with Zeff spending an hour sharing recipes and cooking stories with Ivankov. Zeff had walked away calling Ivankov a mad genius and praised Sanji’s luck on being taught by one of the best doctor-chefs in the countries. Sanji hadn’t the heart to tell Zeff that Ivankov mostly left the teaching up to her assistant’s, who were all trannies that went by the team name “Kambakka Queendom” and seemed to enjoy picking on the three boys in the class and offering them dresses to wear.

“So that’s the marimo plant,” said Sanji proudly, beaming at the tiny little moss-ball that was floating in the cup of water.

Zeff was unimpressed, “This is why you couldn’t buy your stupid hair oils? It’s a pretty boring thing, don’t you think?”

Sanji gaped at Zeff, trying and failing to come up with the appropriate response to that- that- that blasphemous suggestion! It was a marimo! A cute little fuzzball that Zoro glared darkly at whenever he passed by it. It irritated the swordsman to no end! It was Sanji’s pride and joy.

Just then, Zoro entered the room. He was followed by two girls, identical and beautiful with dark hair that flowed in pony-tails behind them. One was wearing square-glasses and looked leaner, with the sports varsity jacket over her body. The other was more graceful and dangerous looking, with her hair in a shorter style. They were followed by their father, an aging man who wore a blue yukata and glasses. Zoro looked nothing like his family physically, but they all shared the muscular structure, the upper-body strength required to wield swords, and an uncanny ability to take up all the space in the room.

Zoro was staring at him and Zeff, eyes glancing at the rotund man, who like Sanji, refused to budge from his position and let Zoro have some space in the room as he eyed the family.

“This is my roommate, Zoro,” began Sanji awkwardly, “Er. This is my old man, Zeff.”

“Pleasure to meet you Sanji,” replied Zoro’s dad, with a smile that made him look like a timid old man which was bullshit considering his children all seemed too sharp to be raised by a timid old man.

“He’s cute,” said the older sister, and Sanji’s day immediately brightened, though his eyes slid to Zoro’s impassive expression, as he replied, “I am a mere speck of dirt in the presence of your glorious beauty. How did the marimo ever get such pretty sisters?”

“Zoro, introduce us,” ordered the younger sister imperiously.

“Right,” replied Zoro boredly, “This is my dad, Koshiro Roronoa, and my sisters, Kuina and Tashigi. Kuina’s in the medical stream, and Tashigi’s in the sports stream but she’s going to declare law enforcement as her advanced stream.”

“And you Sanji?” asked Koshiro politely, “What stream are you thinking of entering?”

“Hospitality sir,” replied Sanji automatically.

“So, is Sanji a good roommate- Oh my gosh, is that a marimo plant!? That’s so cute!”

exclaimed Kuina, before giving Zoro a sly grin, “He’s very cute.”

Sanji felt like he was missing something.

“And what field does Zoro want to enter?” asked Zeff, as Sanji opened his mouth to throw another flirtatious comment at the heavenly embodiment of all that was beautiful and wise and couldn’t possibly related to Zoro.

“I’m in sports for now, and I plan to continue with sports all the way through,” replied Zoro honestly, and Sanji paused again. There was a story there, as Zoro’s entire family was beaming at his declaration.

“Huh, tough stream,” replied Zeff with a nod, “Determination is a good thing on today’s youth. Good luck kid. Come on eggplant, you said you’d show me the kitchens.”

Sanji gawped at his father. How could he call him eggplant in front of Zoro and his beautiful sisters? The sisters were giggling, but Zoro looked triumphant.

They were probably going to end up adopting an eggplant now.

* * *

 

That night, Sanji and Zoro lay awkwardly, side by side in their own beds. Somehow, meeting each other’s families opened up this strange new world that Sanji had never really considered. Zoro was this strange, familiar, unknown and well-known paradoxical entity that Sanji shared a room with, and annoyed, and griped at, and they just- were.

It didn’t help that Zeff’s parting words were about how glad he was that Sanji had such a good friend in Zoro, and how he was okay with having Zoro over for Christmas, and how Zoro seemed like a perfectly good kid. For some reason, Zeff believed that anyone Sanji hated (like Patty and Carne) were his favorite people in the world.

Which was total bullshit.  

But Sanji was curious about what Zoro was thinking. He knew Zoro wasn’t sleeping because his breathing pattern wasn’t the same as when he slept. He took two deep breaths, and then a light one as he slept. This was too shallow, too aware of the world.

“Your sisters seem nice,” commented Sanji to the dark room, wondering why he was even bothering with night-time conversation.

“They’re okay,” replied Zoro, “You’re old man seems alright, like a tough motherfucker. Is he?”

“Yeah,” bragged Sanji, “There’s a reason nobody fucks with Zeff back home. And you should see Patty and Carne. They’ve got these massive guns that they made themselves that shoot rotten food mixed with oils that smell like shit, and then they have real guns- and you didn’t hear that. At all. Don’t tell your sister.”

Sanji turned his head, to see Zoro was grinning at him. They were lying in their beds, facing each other and grinning like idiots. When had that happened?

“Tashigi’s an annoying bitch when it comes to rules. Wouldn’t tell her,” replied Zoro easily, “Kuina would probably find it funny.”

“I thought your family would have green hair,” blurted Sanji.

“Nah, I’m the only one,” said Zoro, “It’s a genetic thing or something.”

“Where was your mom?” asked Sanji nervously, wondering if this was one of those tragic backstory situations.

“At home with Rika,” replied Zoro, giving him a lazy grin, “My youngest sister. She’s eleven and has the flu.”

“You have another sister,” replied Sanji, dumbstruck. “What’s she like?”

“She likes to cook. Reminds me of you. But she can only make onigiri right now. After practice she’d always make me some onigiri,” replied Zoro with a small, reminiscent smile, “She’s going to try for the culinary stream when she gets here. She’d have loved to meet you.”

“Is she a swords-lady too, like your sisters?”

“You noticed that?” asked Zoro, surprised, but he didn’t wait for an answer as he said, “No, she’s not fond of hitting things, and my dad’s the kind of guy who believes in destiny and making your own fate and not forcing people to do things that make them uncomfortable because it’s not in their nature. Are Patty and Carne your- brothers?”

“Employees back home at the Baratie,” replied Sanji, biting back a yawn, “Ex-cons, both of them. Zeff did time too, pretty sure. I’m going to inherit the Baratie someday, and then I’m going to expand it and open up a second restaurant in the heart of the city that’s all my own. A restaurant that serves all kinds of seafood. Anything you want. It’ll be my place, made with my own two hands and Zeff will get to cook there and we won’t do the shitty catering business anymore with the shitty van.”

Sanji stopped, and then stared at Zoro. He wasn’t sure why he’d poured his heart out to Zoro, or told him about his dreams and ambitions, but the green-haired guy just grinned as he replied, “I’m going to be the world’s best swordsman. Beat the current guy and then I’m going to run my dad’s dojo.”

Sanji and Zoro grinned at each other, unified in their ambition. Then something weird happened. Sanji’s heart rate picked up. It was thumping in his chest, and he was suddenly staring at Zoro’s lips that were moist with saliva and looked wet and soft-

Oh.

Oh no.

* * *

 

Sanji had hit rock bottom when he’d made onigiri in his freestyle cooking session. This was not supposed to happen. He stared at the onigiri, that was sitting beside his marimo-ball called ‘Toro’ as a pun on Zoro’s name and because it was a cut of tuna that Sanji had used in cooking today to make the goddamned onigiri. This was not part of the plan. He hated Zoro. Despised the green-haired bastard who was such an asshole that Sanji wanted to strangle all the fucking time. He was not supposed to go and think the mosshead was attractive and nice and-

He should have realized it sooner.

Toro was bobbing in the water, judging him.

Goddammit all.

* * *

 

Nothing came of the infatuation.

After their heart to heart that night, Sanji hadn’t really considered anything of it. He and Zoro exchanged numbers on their matching Den-Den Mushi cellphones that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, but made Sanji feel like it did because his heart was a traitor and kept beating erratically around Zoro rather than around Nami. How could his heart choose a man like Zoro instead of one of the lovely ladies in the academy? Or even one of Zoro’s beautiful sisters?

Then Zoro texted him to bring his sword oils to his practice, because Zoro wanted to polish his swords after his practice as per his usual routine. He’d polish his swords before coming back to bed exhausted and blissfully unaware that Sanji’s eyes were on his abs, wondering what they would taste like under his tongue.    

So Sanji went down to the field, oils in hand and glare on his face because Zoro was undoubtedly practicing, and Sanji had no clue if his libido could handle seeing Zoro serious and stretching. His heart might finally give out.

When he arrived at the field, Sanji found Zoro already up and fighting and he was right. His heart wasn’t able to handle that. He left the sword oil beside Zoro’s water bottle, and dug for a cigarette in his pocket. It was hard sneaking his cigarettes around, and Zoro mostly didn’t mind if he lit up one in the room, as long as he smoked by the window. And this was way too open a field to smoke but god damn he needed it.

Zoro caught sight of him, and nodded, before slashing at nothing again with his swords. He had Yubashiri out, Wado Ichimonji and Kitetsu lay idle on the bench.

“I was just finishing,” called out Zoro, as he made a final crescent with his sword.

“Where’s everyone else?” asked Sanji, blowing out the smoke and feeling an odd sense of peace though his eyes were definitely on Zoro’s abs.

“Left already. C’mon and help me get my stuff from the locker room fuck-wad,” answered Zoro casually, already grabbing his swords and heading to the lockers.

Sanji glowered in frustration, but he put his cigarette out and followed Zoro to the locker room with the sword oil and water in one hand, and Zoro’s towel in the other. He was determinedly not checking Zoro’s ass out. He swore it.

But it was a very nice, very round and very tight ass anyways.

And then Zoro stripped out of his track pants, and Sanji was sucking in a breath and looking anywhere but at Zoro. He literally could not handle that- that- oh holy fuck that ass.

“What’s the matter with you dart-brow?” asked Zoro, glaring at Sanji as though he had been mortally offended by Sanji’s flushed red face.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” muttered Sanji, glaring at the wall, “Just- get changed and let’s get out of here.”

Zoro was mad now. Somehow Sanji had crossed one of their strange boundaries of friendship. He’d insulted Zoro without provocation. Without continuing one of their previous tangents of anger. On a level that was grander than most things.

It devolved into insults, with a half-naked Zoro, standing there in a pair of black cotton boxers and Sanji, yelling that Zoro was wasting their time, and somehow, Sanji just struck out. His leg kicked up and slammed into Zoro’s side, and the swordsman looked surprised at the blow. And then he looked even more surprised when he stumbled a bit, and Sanji felt an odd sense of pride.

Until Zoro attacked him.

They were rolling around on the ground, Sanji’s legs striking at Zoro, twisting his body to pin the swordsman down and express just how annoying this green-haired bastard was and how much he hated Zoro. In turn, Zoro was using his arms, gripping at Sanji’s hips and sides and then trying to pin Sanji down and Sanji wasn’t going to just sit there and take it because damn-it-all to hell.

He could feel Zoro’s sweat from practice as he used his elbows to try and shove at Zoro, his leg striking across Zoro’s chest as he began to sweat himself, fighting in a manner he hadn’t quite been able to for a long time. The last time he’d fought like this was with Gin, when they were kids and just playing and goofing off.

And then Zoro was kissing him.

Suddenly Zoro’s hands were on his face and his lips were on Sanji’s and they were soft and wet and everything Sanji had hoped. The kiss was tempered by the taste of blood, the metallic liquid combining with the smoke on Sanji’s breath to ignite something in Sanji’s lungs that was vaguely reminiscent of fire in Sanji’s lungs. Heat spread through his body, diving into his veins and he needed to get out of his shirt, he needed to feel Zoro, needed to cool down as much as he needed to burn.

He wanted Zoro to brand him.

Sanji’s tongue lashed out, diving into Zoro’s mouth as his hands gripped at Zoro’s chest. Zoro shoved him into the ground of the locker-room floor, and Sanji groaned at the feeling of Zoro’s hands on his hips, as his legs curled around Zoro’s thighs, pulling the other boy closer to him and he arched, rutting into Zoro and feeling the stirring of Zoro’s erection, rubbing against him in a manner that should have been alarming but it really wasn’t because god he should have been doing this ages ago. Zoro’s body was hard, like he really was a tree and that hair of his was some green leaves that had started to sprout and it was fuzzy and soft like Toro the marimo plant, as Sanji tugged sharply on Zoro’s hair in retaliation for the fingers digging into his hipbones.

“Fuckin’ hell,” muttered Sanji, pulling back as he stared at Zoro, whose eyes were blown wide and staring down at Sanji with want, “What- when- I thought-

“What the hell did you think Kuina was doing when she called you cute?” bit out Zoro, “Do you have any idea how irritating you are with you’re fucking you-ness?”

“Shut up,” swore Sanji, dragging Zoro’s head back down and pressing his lips to Zoro.

It was wet and sloppy as their tongues battled, not for power or control, but just because everything between them was a fight, and it made sense that this was too. Zoro was pinning Sanji, exerting all his force to wrap the blonde in a cocoon made up of bronze skin and danger. Sanji could feel the fingerprint-shaped bruises forming on his hips. In retaliation, Sanji used his legs, his thighs flexing as his calves dug into Zoro’s hips, rutting against Zoro and forcing a moan out of the swordsman.

It was low, and sexy and it was right beside Sanji’s ear and the sound of it was enough for Sanji to groan. Zoro dove for Sanji’s neck, biting the ear and Sanji keened, a high-pitched sound he wasn’t even aware he could make as Zoro’s tongue, wet as it was with Sanji’s saliva, licked around the shell of the ear, and it had to be an oxymoron because it was such a cool feeling that made Sanji feel like he was on fire.

His nails dug into Zoro’s back, clawing at Zoro and urging him to continue, aggressive and wanting. They’d talk about it later. About what this meant. But right now, Sanji wanted it all. He wanted to feel Zoro’s desire for him, wanted to know that Zoro desired him, wanted him, needed him, as much as Sanji needed Zoro.

Sanji unbuttoned his shirt was, lifting it off his paler torso and tossing it aside in a fervor of excitement. Sanji dove his hands into his pants, unbuttoning the school issued slacks and fistng himself, the thumb stroking the head of his fleshy red cock on each upstroke, because he was hard already and gasping and needy for more. His face was flushed, and he could see Zoro’s eyes widen as he stared, and then Zoro growled and dipped and nipped at Sanji’s neck. The skin was tugged between Zoro’s lips, suckled on and bruising into a nice, deep-red hickey by his shoulder that had Sanji falter in his movements.

Zoro got up off of him and dove into one of the random lockers, pulling out lube and condoms and wow these sports guys were always prepared.

Thank god.

He didn’t have time to think, because Zoro was staring at him, with glazed eyes and god-fucking-dammit he wanted this.

The blonde was on his feet in seconds, and in front of Zoro, peppering kisses on that jaw, suckling and nipping at the skin to taste Zoro, to lick at the salt and sweat and absorb every inch of the swordsman. Sanji dug his hands into Zoro’s hair, running his lips through Zoro’s jaw, as Zoro stripped out of his black boxers with one hand while the other ran along Sanji’s thighs, testing the weight of Sanji’s strength, sizing him up as a lover and fighter and god there was something so hot about that. He felt like one of Zoro’s swords, treated with reverence for being an object of danger and desire and he wanted to become a sword so Zoro would hold him like he did his swords, caress them and coat them in oil.

He wanted to be adored by Zoro.

Sanji’s hand gripped at Zoro’s cock, tugging on it and feeling vague amusement at realizing Zoro’s pubes were a green too. Zoro let out another stuttery moan, as Sanji pushed Zoro into the lockers, his tongue running along Zoro’s darker brown nipple, flicking it with a teasing tongue as Zoro groaned out, “Sanji.”

A breathless moan that held just the right amount of want and desire.

“Again,” gasped Sanji, falling to his knees and then fumbling as he realized he didn’t know what he was doing, but he had to get Zoro to sound like that again.

He looked up, at Zoro’s eyes that were darkened with desire, eyes that were blackened and wanting and focused solely on Sanji, but with lips that were pressed tight. Taunting. A challenge.

Sanji reached out, his tongue toying with Zoro’s cock, brushing the underside and feeling the heat, as Zoro gasped, his hands clenching into fists and pressing back against the lurid red lockers. Determined to get more sounds, Sanji blew across the head, and this time it was Zoro that keened, groaning as he tugged at Sanji’s blonde hair.

Confident now, Sanji began to fumble his way through the blow job. It was sloppy and his tongue was stroking Zoro’s cock and tasting the salt and musk. Zoro was wider than Sanji in girth, but shorter in length, and Sanji’s lips were stretching around that cock, sucking and toying and feeling the heat as Zoro groaned and gasped. Pre-cum leaked out of Zoro’s cock, and it tasted unfamiliar and yet like Zoro’s cock, with salt and musk and heat, and Sanji didn’t care as he lapped his tongue at the slit of Zoro’s cock, lapping at the precum that was slick and wet, trying to get a better taste of it while simultaneously earning more groans grunts and hair-pulling that went straight to Sanji’s cock.

Sanji pulled off, a frown on his lips as he stared up at Zoro, unaware of the picture he made as he sat on his knees, with lips gleaming from sucking on cock, puffy and red with desire, slight drool dripping along his chin. His hair was a mess, and his cheeks pink.

“Say my name,” demanded Sanji, and Zoro complied.

“Sanji. Sanji. Sanji,” groaned Zoro, and it was augmented by the fact that Zoro never said his name. Never. And now he was saying it, saying it in that voice and Sanji’s cock was bobbing as Zoro came with a splash, no warning at all.

Sanji coughed and spluttered as Zoro hauled him to his feet, looking glazed and orgasmic and delighted and then his tongue was in Sanji’s mouth and Sanji was going to die because he needed air but he didn’t want air because that would stop this, and how could he stop this?

Zoro had lube in his hand, stroking at Sanji’s cock. There was no way Sanji was going to last long, because Zoro’s hand was hot and it demanded Sanji’s attention as it slipped and sucked and gripped with an expertise from gripping swords all day.

“Come on,” coaxed Zoro in that dark voice that was glazed with desire like donuts were with icing and both were so sweet but Sanji wanted to only taste Zoro’s voice, wanted to savor it as Zoro stroked harder, crooning in his ear as Sanji gasped and squirmed, still in his jeans as Zoro tugged and pulled.

“Come on Sanji,” groaned Zoro, “Fuck you’re gorgeous. God you’re so fucking hot when you suck cock and I want to see you cum so come on Sanji!”

It was the last bit that undid him. Zoro desires were echoing in his mind, rattling his brains and shaking his very core as Sanji came into that hot hand, hips bucking as he did and with a final, stuttering whine of “Zo-oro.”

They stood there, holding onto each other with legs that felt weak and unstable and arms that clung to each other.

“So, does this mean we’re dating?” asked Sanji, still feeling unstable as he hugged Zoro, held Zoro, and revelled in that post orgasmic glow.

“Fuck if I know,” replied a tired sounding Zoro, “But we’re doing that again.”

“And again after that,” promised Sanji, as their eyes met.

Dark eyes on blue, searching and staring and then they were kissing.

It wasn’t perfect. There was an imbalance and no one was in control. They didn’t fit together like a perfect puzzle but they existed together. And come what may, they would never stop existing together. And for the first time, Sanji didn't think of the Baratie when he went to sleep that night in Zoro’s arms.

 


End file.
